Amor Fati
by Sarcastic Avenger
Summary: Ranma's efforts to cure his curse have succeeded. Well, for half of him. There's a short, red-haired girl with his memories and his identity running around as a side effect. She's stuck in his shadow, watching him live the life that she had wanted. Yet life and love moves on. Will she be able to cope?
1. Identity Crisis

_**Amor Fati**_

**Summary:** Ranma's efforts to cure his curse have succeeded. Well, for half of him. There's a short, red-haired girl with his memories and his identity running around as a side effect. She's stuck in his shadow, watching him live the life that she had wanted. Yet life and love moves on. Will she be able to cope?

**Notes:** So I've been thinking about writing one of those Ranma being split into male and female parts for a while now. The first part is finally coming into place. This should turn out to be a rather long one if anything goes according to plan (it probably won't).

I also wanted to experiment with the "How We Got Here" story frame. And as you can tell, from the difference between the prologue and the first chapter, there's going to be mood whiplash in this story. A lot of it. I've wanted to write a slice of life style story for some time now, but naturally the only way to make it not dull is to include variations on mood. So there will be dark, introspective and angsty chapters, as well as more light-hearted and fun ones, as the story progresses through Ranma-chan dealing with having her life ripped away from her.

And no matter how hard people try to help her (and they will, this isn't a throw the girl half away like trash story), nothing can change the fact that there can only be one Ranma in each person's life. So Ranma-chan has to find a way to step out of her own shadow, and be her own self and not just an imitation of what she once was.

The story is currently Rated T for mild adult themes. Some violence, some romance, some teenagers being teenagers. The rating could go up in the future, depending on how later drafts develop and feedback.

* * *

**Prologue: The Start is Where the End is Leading You**

"This sure is some rescue party," said Ranma, "Anyone got any bright ideas?"

The black-haired young man spoke brashly as he ran through the backwoods illuminated only by pale moonlight, but the subtle quirk of his smile and ever so slight waver in his voice betrayed his macho front. He was dirty, covered with the sweat and grime of a day long running battle, while his clothes were practically in tatters. The rips in his red silk shirt revealed an array of bruises, cuts and scratches all-over his body.

And he probably looked the least worse for wear of the Nerima wrecking crew. Genma braced himself on a walking stick, hobbling to keep up with his running allies. One eye was swollen shut, and his glasses were cracked. Soun followed closely after, his clothes and hair singed. Mousse and Shampoo staggered behind him, supporting each other's weight.

At the end of the caravan, Ukyo struggled to keep up, carrying Konatsu's unconscious body piggy-back. In between ragged, panting breaths, she shouted, "We're not going to be able to escape at this pace! Ranma-honey, do something!"

Meanwhile, Akane (the rescuee of this little expedition), ran in the middle of the pack, shrinking in shame as much as one can possibly do when running for their life. All of this trouble was for her sake, and she certainly didn't feel worthy of it. All this suffering to rescue her…it was almost unbearable.

"Argh," Ranma growled, digging deeper for more strength to carry on. "Damn it, I hate to admit it, but I really wish that Ryoga was with us on this one."

"Well, he's not, and wishing he was won't get us anywhere," replied a familiar voice. A voice that had once been his.

She took up the rear guard of their group, keeping a careful eye for pursuers as they flew like a bat out of hell away from their doom. Her silk shirt hung in tatters around her shoulders, revealing the once flawlessly smooth skin of her chest, now covered with bruises and scabs from battle. A ripped black sports bra was the only thing left preserving her modesty.

Her most striking feature was her fiery red hair, braided into a long queue that reached her mid back. Her hair still burned brightly even in the moonlight.

In spite of her exhaustion, she remained alert and vigilant, searching for any sign of their pursuers. They had maybe a ten minute lead when they had first made their escape, judging by the disorganization among the guards, but undoubtedly that lead was shrinking, with how exhausted they were. Someone could catch up at any moment.

As they crossed a narrow rope bridge over a deep, misty chasm, Ukyo suddenly lost her footing. She skidded to a halt on the far-side, groaning with pain and frustration. Konatsu was jerked backed to consciousness by the impact, crying out in shock as he lay in a tangled heap with the okonomiyaki chef.

The red-haired girl winced at her friend's awkard tumble. "Ucchan!" she cried, before coming to her aid. As she disentangled the half-conscious male kunoichi from Ukyo, and started to check them both for serious injuries, the rest of the party gathered around them. For what seemed like a short eternity, nothing but the sounds of ragged panting filled the cool night air. Finally, Ranma-chan breathed a sigh of relief. "Looks like just a few scratches. You'll be fine."

"Shampoo no can keep this up much longer," said the very exhausted Amazon. She awkwardly braced herself on one foot, breathing raggedly as Mousse took the opportunity to bandage her ankle.

Everyone nodded in silent agreement.

Even the ever arrogant Ranma seemed to have been knocked down a few pegs. Everyone looked a bit frustrated and scared by the present circumstances. The looks on their faces almost broke the pig-tailed girl's heart. She silently helped Ukyo and Konatsu to their feet before taking a moment to scan the terrain.

The chasm was deep and broad, and the mist made attempting to jump it suicidal in a combat situation for even the most adept martial artist. The bridge was narrow enough that only single-file was the only comfortable way to attempt to cross, and it had enough play to challenge someone's balance. It was perfect.

"The way I see it, we've got two options," she said, "Either we keep trying to run and hope to out last them, or…" she motioned to the bridge, "one of us stays behind and holds them off as long as possible."

"But that's suicide!" said Mousse.

"I know," she replied, "and that's why I'm—"

"It's not if I do it!" cried Ranma, cutting off his distaff counterpart. "You guys go on ahead. I'll show those bastards why Saotome Ranma never loses!"

Ranma-chan sighed, facepalming with indignation. She knew that cocky jerk well enough to know that either the gravity of the situation hadn't really caught up with him, or he was putting on up a front even after all this.

"Boy, if you think we came all this way to rescue your fiancée just so you could play Horatius at the bridge, you've got another thing coming!"(1) said Genma. "Besides, I'm just a burden to you running. I'll hold them off."

Whereas Ranma's words were simple youthful bravado, Genma's confidence was different. Though Ranma-chan was still a little bit irked from having been cut off and ignored, hearing her father act fatherly, and lay his life down to defend his child brought a small smile to her face. Perhaps the old man wasn't so bad after all. Still, she couldn't imagine him putting up too much of a fight like this.

"Old man, you are in no—"

Soun cut her off this time. "Nonsense Saotome! You've already done so much to help rescue my daughter, staying behind is the least I could do to repay you. Besides, I've been injured less than you."

"Daddy, wait just a minute!" cried Akane.

The argument raged on for another minute, with each of the men demanding the honor of staying behind, while Ranma-chan kept getting cut off everytime she tried to speak. She suspected that it was just a play of male egos, because they weren't (totally) insane. They all had a lot to live for, and no one wanted to have to die if they could help it. An entirely unblameworthy position.

Finally, Ukyo cried "Enough!" and slammed her combat spatula on the ground in between the arguing men. Finally, silence. "If we can't resolve it like this, then we'll just draw straws."

Finally, Ranma-chan had the chance to speak. "This is unnecessary Ukyo. It was my idea. I should be the one to do it."

"No, I think we should let fate decide," her masculine counterpart replied.

The rest nodded in agreement. Letting destiny solve the argument seemed like a fair enough way out.

"I'm not drawing against you…" she half-whispered. Even now, after all they'd been through, she felt like she wasn't being taken seriously. Their chauvinism was aggravating, and she felt rather ashamed knowing that until a few months ago, she was no different.

"You better, because I'm drawing against you," chided Ranma.

Ukyo had quickly chopped up some straw from the long grass by the trail. As she prepared the lengths of straw, Ranma piped up again, "Yo, Ucchan," he said, "Why are there six and not five?"

"Because I'm the one who fell and cost us valuable time. I'm not some honorless martial artist who is gonna let someone else die for my mistake." She finished, and held out her hand to him. "You first, Ranma-honey."

Ranma drew first, as offered. Ukyo then offered it to Ranma-chan, and then to the rest of the group first-come, first serve. They drew one by one, comparing the lengths of their straw. A pit formed in Ranma's stomach as he gasped in shock. In his hand was the shortest straw. Fate had chosen him. After all this, now was his time to go? It felt kind of stupid to be killed by such a little piece of straw.

"Oh no…" said Ukyo before her mouth started to flap wordlessly. Since his relationship with Akane had turned so much more serious, even _inevitable_, in the last few months, she had given up chasing after him. But she never stopped loving him for a single moment, and now she'd killed him. Even after she'd given him the first pick, he still drew the short straw.(2)

The look of horror on her face was matched only by Genma's. "Boy, if you think—"

"Pops, shut up," Ranma said sternly, "You said you'd raise me to be a man among men, and that's what I am doing right now. If you won't treat me like a man, then what was this all for?" Ranma clenched his fists in anger, partly at Genma and partly at fate. "You guys better go. They'll be catching up soon.

Soun pulled Genma down along the path, as the party grimly accepted fate. Konatsu seemed to be lucid enough to run now, so Ukyo ended up carrying Akane along bodily. She wasn't about to let the tomboy do something stupid and double the tragedy.

"You guys go on ahead, I'll catch up," cried Ranma-chan.

Mousse lingered to make sure she didn't do something stupid too. It was bad enough for his beloved Shampoo to have to lose one Ranma, and since the unlucky duckboy had resigned himself to at best being number two in her heart, he'd be damned before he'd let Shampoo lose both of them. That would just be senselessly tragic.

Ranma-chan put a comforting hand on her counterpart's shoulder, though it felt a bit awkward thanks to the height difference. Comforting someone larger than you just looked strange. "Hey, Ranma," she said.

That got his attention. She had always made it a point to never call him by name, and he had always done likewise. Their shared identity made it too threatening. "_I guess this is what they call 'self-respect'_" he joked with himself.

"Ranma," he replied, "I know you know that you can't be what I was for Akane…but I still want you to look after her and love her for me. She's going to need you."

Ranma-chan sighed, closing her eyes. With her exhaled breath went all of her fears and doubts. "That won't be necessary," she said. He sensed something wrong that instant. But she was a coiled spring of determination. In an instant, she released all of that energy for one purpose, too fast for him to react.

Lightning fast blows struck pressure points on his shoulders, torso and head. Instantly, his arms were numb and paralyzed, and his head was spinning with dizziness.

Mousse was too shocked to react immediately.

"Y-you…you uncute tomboy!" Ranma shouted, "What are you doing!"

"Stopping you from making a mistake," she replied. The cheer in her voice was unsettling.

Ranma was struggling to stand straight, but he kept shouting at his counterpart and trying to headbutt her in retaliation. She nimbly dodged all of his strikes while he growled at her, "I don't like it, but it's my destiny!"

"You idiot, even before I did this, you were more injured than me. Besides, after all that I've suffered through for you to be cured, it would be just too damn tragic for you and Akane to never get married."

"Ranchan, have you gone mad!?" cried Mousse, finally rushing to intervene.

In that moment, Ranma was stunned by her words, and looked his counterpart in the eyes. Why was she smiling? Were those tears of joy in her bright blue eyes?

In that instant of vulnerability, she struck again. She punched him hard just below the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him as he doubled over onto her arm. Her fist slipped inside his shirt, depositing something in one of the internal pockets. "Give this to Ryoga. Make sure he gets it."

Ranma gasped for air, coughing out "Why?"

"I'm controlling my own fate. You take care of yourself, bro." She chuckled. They really were brother and sister now, in spite of their continued mutual protest of the idea. She kissed him on the forehead, then shoved his limp body into Mousse's arms. "Goodbye."

There had been a touch of sadness in her otherwise happy voice. And it infuriated Ranma as Mousse started dragging him away. He'd tried to treat her right (after come convincing), but he'd royally sucked at it. It took him far too long to realize what she was going through, and how he and nearly everyone else had inadvertently made it worse. If there was anyone who deserved to live, it was her. And yet here she was, laying her life down for him without a second thought. She had turned away, and was walking to the bridge to prepare to defend it to her lost.

Having finally caught his breath, he cried "Ranma, I'm sorry…"

She glanced over her shoulder at him, smiling. "I'm not…it had to be me." She flashed that all too familiar Saotome Ranma cocky grin. "Someone else might have gotten it wrong!"

Mousse pulled him away, supporting his dizziness as they ran to catch up. Neither of them spoke a word to each other.

* * *

**Chapter 1:** **Identity Crisis**

_Several months earlier…_

"Ugh…could you get the number of that bullet-train that just hit me," croaked Ranma, just coming to. For the moment, there was no recollection of where or when this was happening. It was like coming to with a bad hangover at a three day long bender.

Not that Ranma would have known what a three day long bender was like at this point. As wild as the aquatransexual's life had been, binge drinking wasn't part of it. And for those of you reading this, I would hope you wouldn't know from first-hand experience what that kind of dull, throbbing pain, centered mostly in the head but still radiating out through the entire body. Or the sense of delirium that is produced from having your ability to form memories shutdown for some time and still impaired. But I digress…Saotome Nodoka would hope that her virtuous man-among-men son didn't have that experience, so who are we to disappoint her?

Oh right, Ranma's predicament! There was some stirring, as blood started to return to the extremities, and the heart started pumping more vigorously. And some moaning, just loud enough to be barely audible, because even in a catatonic state Ranma tries to cling to manly stoicism.

"Oh, she's coming to," said a voice that Ranma didn't recognize at the moment. Some other sounds started becoming apparent in the general din. The crackle of wood in an open fire, and the gentle rustling of wind in the trees.

The sounds were becoming clearer. Another voice, well at least it sounded like another voice, there was no way of knowing at the moment, said, "Do you think we should tell her?"

"_Tell her…what did he mean by that_?" Ranma thought. The gears started turning in the brain, and finally the firing of synapses made the right connection, and a memory bubbled to the surface. They had traveled way out of East Asia, all the way to the Pyrenees, in Europe! It was on the border of France and Spain…or was it Italy…ugh, his grasp of geography outside of East Asia was pretty fuzzy. Another name came to mind…La Brèche de Roland. They were looking for a monastery near some spring near that place.

A long way for a cure. But some reliable sources *cough* Cologne *cough* had believed that the resting place of some magical sword was there. A sword that could cut through curses.

More memories came floating back. It had been a long damn training trip. Genma had insisted that they travel there the hard way, so that they could further hone their skills in exotic lands far from comfort. After all, the life of a martial artist is filled with peril…and long journeys apparently. They had arrived after two months of hard travelling, meeting a group of strangely dressed…were they monks? Well, they didn't look like much of any religious figure that Ranma was used to, not even the Catholics that were a somewhat important presence in Japan. While his memory of geography was hazy, he did manage to remember that Europe was predominantly Christian, and this part was supposed to be Catholic.

They had further been confronted by language barriers. None of the monks spoke any East Asian language, and though it had been improving over the trip, Ranma's English skills were still subpar. And while English was the closest thing to a global lingua franca, these monks didn't seem to have gotten the memo. Only one at the monastery spoke English, and he was away for several days.

Which meant several days of boredom. Because their first attempts to train or spar within the abbey walls had been meet rather vigorously. Though neither Ranma, Ryoga nor Genma spoke a word of whatever languages these people were using, it seemed pretty clear that they didn't want any violence going on.

At least the boredom was mutual. Because the monks seemed to take every opportunity they could to play with the three martial artist's curses, splashing them with cold and hot water as fast as they could boil more hot water. They seemed particularly intrigued by Ranma's…intrigued enough to want to check to make sure her breasts were real, and her new figure wasn't an illusion.

Ranma almost managed to respect their wishes about violence in a house of God. _Almost_.

Finally, the prodigal monk returned, and after a long awkward conversation, which pitted Ranma's heavily Japanese accented English against the monk's heavily Basque accented English, they found out that the sword was in a cavern under a nearby shrine, and a bit more about it.

Oh yes that sword. Good ol' magical artifact sword…if only Ranma could remember its damn name. Whatever. It could cut through anything, even curses. All it would take is a single prick, and even the most evil of curses would be separated.

The last thing Ranma remembered was arguing with Pop and P-Chan over who'd get to use it first. An argument won, to her eternal shame, thanks to female form sad puppy eyes. So she'd pulled it from its mantel, and then cautiously used to prick her finger. Which was harder than it sounds, because the millennia old sword was, like most of its depictions in legend, not only an (anachronistic) bastard sword, but also ridiculously sharp. The monk had warned, without a hint of humor, to be careful not to cut herself in half, or anyone else for that matter.

And then this. Cured at last! Wait a minute, what did they mean about "tell her?" you're asking. Fanfiction may run often on wish-fulfillment, but did you really think it would be that easy? At any rate, Ranma realized that too.

"_Wait a minute!_" she said to herself, bolting upright. As she opened her eyes, she saw three figures sitting before her, near the cavern entrance. The figures were blurry, and as they slowly came into focus, she saw her male self, looking right back at her kind of sheepishly.

Ranma-chan did the only thing a reasonable person could do. She screamed bloody murder.

* * *

1. I don't know if this idiom has made it anywhere in Japan, though I would suspect not. I'm using it currently because I do not know of anything analogous in Japanese cultural history, and because it seems plausible that someone who had devoted his life to martial arts, and traveled wide to study it, might have heard of such a tale of martial gallantry.

2. Statistically, the person who draws first has the lowest probability of drawing the short straw in any instance where more than two straws are being drawn. Ukyo, an intelligent girl who has shown considerable ability for connivance, seems to be one that might know this and attempt to use this fact to stack the odds in Ranma's favor.


	2. Who Are You Callin Copy?

_**Amor Fati**_

**Author's Notes:** Okay, that took me way longer than I had expected. What's sad is that the first part of the chapter came out beautifully, but I really struggled to find a proper conclusion.

One thing that I find common in amateur writing, particularly in a serial form like this is that little attention is paid to the timing of narrative structure. Chapters shouldn't just be cut out of a larger narrative haphazardly. They should provide their own rhythm. They ought to thematically coherent, and provide a proper denouement that anticipates what is to come.

Anyway, I digress. Chapter was tough, I'm sorry it took so long. Hopefully, the next few will not take so damn long. Because I really want this story to be able to move forward at a decent pace.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Who Are You Callin' Copy?!**

Ranma-chan in front of the small camp fire in silence. She'd pulled her legs up tight to her chest, hiding her blush of embarrassment behind her knees as she slowly rocked back and forth. That scream had been seriously unmanly, and it had taken some convincing to make sure that Pop, Ryoga and _that guy_ didn't think she was some hysterical female.

She hadn't said a word to any of them, because there simply were no words in the Japanese language what she wanted to say. She had plenty of questions, and from the look on their faces, she could tell the feeling was mutual. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Pop left to gather more firewood with _him_.

Which left her sitting around the crackling campfire with Ryoga. Of all the emotionally-stunted manchildren to have to be stuck with, the sad thing was that Ryoga was probably the least bad choice.

Ranma-chan noticed is awkward glances. Every few minutes, he'd turn to her, and his mouth would hang open as he tried to find something to say, and then he'd quickly go back to minding his own business the moment he thought she was looking. His cluelessness to the fact that she was aware of it all was almost amusing. Almost.

Finally, it just became annoying. If she hadn't felt like she'd been mugged by life, she'd have put a stop to it. But for the moment, she just sat around the fire, shivering from the cold draft. After a while she grew tired of watching Ryoga's pathetic attempts at being something resembling a friend, and buried her face in her knees.

She was almost motionless for a few minutes, except for her occasional shivers, while she contemplated crawling into a hole somewhere and dying. Then she felt something warm wrap around her shoulders. The fabric was coarse, but still warm, and it did a lot to fight off the cold drafts.

Oh she would have none of this. She didn't need anyone's pity, least of all that lousy, aimless buffoon's. Ranma-chan jumped up to her feet, howling with a mix of rage and frustration.

Ryoga was taken aback by her response. He just thought it was a nice thing to do, not thinking of how emasculating such an act would be to an already emasculated chauvinist like Ranma. "_So this must be what Ranma feels like when he pisses off Akane…_" he said to himself, presenting warding signs as he practically bent over backwards to get as far away as he could from the red-head's fury.

She jabbed him in the chest with her forefinger, standing on her tip-toes to loom over the much taller boy, who had wisely decided to not try to meet the freight train head on. "I do not need your pity!" she screamed.

"Pity? I was just trying to be nice…"

"Well, you should stop, because you suck at it, P-chan."

Ryoga's blood began to boil after the initial shock of the feminine anger assault began to wear off. Veins popped on his forehead as he clenched his fist around the hand that she'd been prodding him in the chest. Ranma-chan tried to pull away, but his vice-like grip refused to yield.

"Ranma…you bastard. After all the shit you've put me through…you have the gall to blow up at me when I try to be nice to you…"

In that moment, Ranma-chan realized she may have pushed him a bit too far this time. Welp…

"Saotome Ranma, prepare to die!"

Their battle began as always, with Ryoga attacking aggressively and making a wreck of his surroundings. Ranma-chan dodged through the falling trees as best as she could, using her superior agility to avoid the worst of his assault. But his attacks were persistent, and eventually a gap appeared in her defenses. His punch connected with her jaw, knocking her back into a sturdy beech tree. The impact knocked the wind out of her.

Ryoga didn't miss a moment to capitalize. He leapt into the air to close the gap, aiming a powerful kick at his staggered foe. But she was far from out of the fight, nimbly dodging to the side. The thick trunk shattered into kindling.

The slight of the splintered wood cascading towards the ground gave him pause; the way the shreds of bark and pulp exploded outwards from the impact seemed to flow almost like a wave. And in that instant, Ryoga realized he'd gone too far…again. And like most male martial artists from Nerima, his defenses dropped as the realization of guilt took hold.

Ranma-chan's upper cut hit his chin like a battering ram, propelling him up through the tree canopy in a graceful arc. He landed, headfirst, with a wet thud by the campsite, drenching himself with now cold contents of the tea kettle.

Ranma-chan smiled with smug satisfaction. No matter how bad things got, Ryoga could always be counted on to be a great punching bag. She dusted herself off, and gathered some kindling from the splintered tree; no sense letting it go to waste.

A stunned little black pig crawled out of Ryoga's now wet cloths. He lost his balance after freeing himself from the tangles, and collapsed onto Ranma-chan's feet as she crouched down to put some more wood on the fire.

"Damn you, Ryoga…why'd ya have to go and make me feel bad for pummeling your sorry ass." She picked up the shivering pig, and held him close to her chest. Poor P-chan just looked so adorably helpless. "Don't tell Akane, but I can see why she's head over heels for a little piggy like you," cooed Ranchan, as she gently stroked the rather large lump on his head.

She laid back on the grass, still cradling P-chan to her chest. Up here in these mountains, free from the light pollution and smog of the city, the stars seemed to burn brighter. And there wasn't a cloud in the sky to hide the beauty of the endless night sky. The stars were strange and unfamiliar from the ones she'd remembered from back in Japan, but certainly no less beautiful.

She let out a long sigh. P-chan bweed in agreement, having come to his senses enough to notice his surroundings but not enough to feel existential dread over being held so close by his eternal rival.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, with nothing to distract them from stargazing. Finally, Ranma-chan set P-chan down on the grass next to her. He seemed pretty lucid now, so she rolled over onto her side to stare down the little black pig.

He stared back, wondering what tortures were in store for him now.

"Ne, P-chan…if you breathe a word of this to anyone, you'll be a pork chop sandwich by the end of the day? Got it?"

He nodded, shuddering at the thought of what the violent red-haired girl would do to him.

"Good. If they see me being sentimental, they'll think I've really gone off the deep end." She sighed, and for a moment, Ryoga thought he saw tears in her eyes. "It'll be hard enough…without having to keep convincing them I'm still the same Ranma. And the weirdest thing is…I guess I'm kinda glad it was me, and not you or Pop that tried it first. At least I'm still human."

If Ryoga could have spoken, he would have said, "Who the hell are you and what have you done to Saotome Ranma?" As it was, all he could do is squeal in confusion.

She wiped some tears from her eyes. "Gosh, look at me getting all sappy like this. I don't know how the hell I'm supposed ta break this to Akane. She'll probably mallet me just on principle."

Ryoga grunted in agreement. As rough as his friendship with Ranma was, he often found himself pitying the poor boy whenever he inevitably put his foot in his mouth, or Akane misunderstood another episode of the humiliation conga of awkward positions that he got himself into.

Ranma-chan filled the kettle with some water from her canteen, and hung it over the fire. "Won't be long, and you'll be good as new, P-chan," she said, not caring if he was listening or not. As the kettle started to hiss, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. Light from the brisk little campfire was reflecting off something polished and metallic. When she turned to see what it was, her blood ran cold.

That damned sword…her hope turned to ruin…was lashed to her Pop's pack. The accursed bastard sword lay there, mocking her. Vein-popping anger washed over her. So, she did what any sensible protagonist would in this situation. Namely, she poured the boiling hot contents of the kettle onto her companion, and prepared to interrogate him.

"Ack…not so hot!" cried Ryoga.

And before he could even utter a word in his defense, Ranma-chan knocked him flat on his back. She loomed over him, pinning his shoulder to the ground with one hand while menacing him with the still mostly full kettle of boiling water with the other hand. "What is that thing doing there?"

Ryoga was torn between blushing over his nakedness…and the popped top button on Ranma-chan's silk tangzhuang that gave an all too good of a window to her ample cleavage…and trying to ignore his emotionally unbalanced rival humiliating him again. "Hey, what's your problem this time?" he shouted.

"I swear to God, Hibiki, if you don't tell me why that damned sword is in the Old man's pack, I will waterboard you with this boiling water!" The scowl on her face made it abundantly clear that she was not bluffing.

Ryoga gritted his teeth, as his rising anger started to wash away his embarrassment. Ranma had been a hard person to be friends with, but this was getting out of hand, and after all he was doing to try to help too. And Ryoga's chauvinism could only keep him from reacting for so long. After all, Ranma was really a guy, in spite of flashing his buxom chest right now, so it was okay to hit her, right?

Ryoga knocked away the water kettle, and trapped the arm she'd been holding it against her side with in a single fluid motion. He hooked his left leg behind her knee, and then with a quick roll, her power play was reversed. As a final touch, he trapped her arms above her head to minimize the violent redhead's ability to retaliate.

"Ranma…what has gotten into you? If you want to get mad at someone, get mad at the old man. Look, I know you're having a tough time right now, and that's why I ain't beating the crap out of you, but you're not normally like this."

Ranma-chan refused to look him in eye, tilting her head to the side and staring off into the forest. Her face was flushed with anger, and she was scowling…well, scowling as best as she could with as cute of a face as that. Rather than appearing properly enraged, her frown only seemed to make most people think she was just more adorable. She was acutely aware of all the times someone, whether strangers or even people she knew, patronized her when she had been in her girl form with phrases like "you're cute when you're mad." At least then she was a kettle of hot water away from correcting the problem. Now it was rather more permanent.

"_This is humiliating,_" she though, devoutly refusing to acknowledge Ryoga's presence, "_How'd I let him get the better of me? Now he's got me pinned, all because I let myself get distracted. Even worse, that jackass is being gentle with me, all because I'm a girl. Had I been a guy, he'd be wrenching my arm out its socket by now. Jerk…_"

Ryoga took the opportunity to breathe a sigh of relief while Ranma-chan silently brooded. At least she stopped fighting back, even if she was ignoring him. "Look, if you think I'm going easy on you because you're a girl, you're wrong. I'm going easy on you because your head's not in the right place. It'd be meaningless to beat you while you're distracted like this."

Typical Ryoga, being patronizing to her in a moment of weakness. But as much as she hated to admit it, he was right this time. She'd let herself get strung out, and it was affecting her performance.

"Now are you going to be nice, or am I going to have to beat it into you?"

She sighed in frustration, before finally looking him in the eye. She didn't say anything…acknowledging his presence was enough of a concession to that idiot.

Ryoga nearly had a heart attack, as he noticed her pouty lips and half-lidded stare. He swallowed, wondering if she was doing this on purpose, or if she was just a natural at pouty, hard-to-get seductiveness. There was no doubt that Ranma's female form was beautiful. Hell, as much as Ryoga hated Ranma for using it against him, he couldn't deny that she was downright gorgeous; from her burning red hair, to her sapphire blue eyes, to her well-toned physique and her milky soft skin, she was a knockout.

It had always made Ryoga terribly uncomfortable, but never more so than now, as his gaze was irresistibly pulled from her full, pink lips, down across the smooth skin of her neck, to the flawless curves of her ample, exposed breasts—wait, how the hell did that happen?

As Ryoga stared in shock at her bosom, he was wondering exactly that. Because he had been too focused on his conflict with Ranma-chan, he'd failed to notice the remaining buttons on her tunic had popped in the tussle. And now he was frozen in shock, acutely aware of short distance separating his naked body from the exposed flesh of his rival's female half. As he tried to figure out a way to extricate himself from this embarrassment, he hoped it didn't get any worse.

There was a cough from the edge of the camp, followed shortly by a familiar voice. "Are we interrupting something, P-chan?"

Ryoga's blood ran cold, and as his heart skipped a beat, he wondered if it was actually possible to die from embarrassment. It might have been merciful compared to having to live this one down.

Ranma-chan was mortified as well. The pout on her lips twisted into rage, and she kicked him off as quickly as possible. Both of them protested "This isn't what it looks like!" simultaneously, naturally forgetting that it's never once worked in the past.

The male Ranma laughed as he watched Ryoga trip over himself to find his clothes. Genma was far from amused though, sighing into the palm of his hand. His chiseled features betrayed a level of unease that was far from common for the old thief.

"Guess I was right, Pop. She's just like one of the mirror copies. Look at how she was putting the moves on Ryoga the moment we turned our backs."

"Who are you calling a copy?" Ranma-chan demanded, as she nonchalantly buttoned up her baggy scarlet tangzhaung.

Genma groaned. Dealing with one Ranma was enough of a chore. With two of them, and one of them very bitter with the other, he was ready to run up the white flag right then. "Just stop it, boy. It's still half a day's journey back to that temple. We can get more answers there. Until then, just cool it."

"Cool it? How am I supposed to cool it when I'm stuck like this?" cried Ranma-chan. To emphasize her point, she cupped her breasts. It was an entirely unnecessary gesture, since her feminine figure was plainly visible even under baggy, oversized clothes.

Ranma tried not to laugh at her display, but he wasn't succeeding. He'd never realized just how silly he looked when he had done the same sorts of unfeminine things. But now that the curse was behind him, and only this strange brooding creature left behind as a reminder of it, he could fully appreciate just how silly his predicament had been. This curse-copy's sullen behavior was just too angsty. Whoever she was, he couldn't believe that it was another Ranma behind those blue eyes. Saotome Ranma would never behave this unmanly.

Ranma-chan noticed his stifled laughter, and it set her blood boiling. "And you! Wipe that dumb grin off your face before I do it for you! I swear, I will drag you back to Jusenkyo and throw you back into Nyannichuan. I'm sure Herb will be more than happy to help enlighten you about what it's like to be stuck as a girl forever."

"Oh yeah? You and what army?"

* * *

The two Ranmas fought each other to exhaustion. The several hours of fighting, both verbal and physical, ensured that no one got a good night's sleep that night. Ryoga and Genma had toughed it out as best they could, but it finally took threatening them both with no breakfast the next morning to get them to agree to a truce.

The weary travelers packed up camp in the morning, and began the trek back to the abbey. As they started their walk home, Ranma-chan always stayed at least ten paces behind the rest of the group, preferring to brood alone rather than have to deal with their derision or pity.

And so they marched onwards, through the stands of dry pine, and across the parched and rocky earth of the foothills. The desolate land was harsh in a way that they had little experience of. The midday sun began to beat down upon them mercilessly, and there was nary a patch of shade along the dusty trail back towards civilization. And so they retreated like whipped dogs, while nature punished them for their temerity in attempting to break the curse.

Or at least it seemed like that. Ranma-chan may have been self-absorbed, but she knew enough to try to resist the seductive narcissism of despair, in feeling that the gods and the world really was out to get there. She might have even succeeded, had the weather not been so damned hot, and with no reprieve to boot.

Cool water, once the bane of her existence, was nowhere to be found. The only source of desperately needed drinking water was a babbling brook fed by a spring further up the mountain, which Ryoga had found around three o'clock in the afternoon local time. It was a pathetic little stream, and its water was nearly as hot as the rocks it flowed over, which had been baking in the sun all day.

Yesterday had been cloudy enough to provide a pleasant experience on the hike up, and the clouds had continued into the night, providing a blanket effect on the normally cold mountain air, enough to keep the night relatively pleasant. But they had dissipated by first light, allowing the sun's rays to hammer down without relent, like the hammer of an angry god.

The sun had made life unpleasant. But the vast, emptiness of the terrain was another matter entirely. The wilds here seemed larger than life, and the great open spaces of the drylands threatened to swallow her whole.

Ranma-chan cursed her choice to sulk behind the rest of the party. As they faded into the distance, no more than tiny ants amidst titanic rocky hills and the endless horizon, silent tears ran down her cheeks.

She was alone.


	3. Lost Causes

_**Amor Fati**_

**Author's Notes:** So yeah, earlier promises having a quicker update turned out to be false, because of major draft revisions, and a lot of major plot details have changed. C'est la vie.

Hopefully the start of Ran-chan's character arc will be clear here, and this should help clear up some misconceptions. One reviewer remarked that Ranma appeared to him like a "feminist with self-loathing feelings…" which I found truly puzzling. She'd have to identify as a female for that to be true, and it's pretty clear in these early chapters is that she is feeling emasculated, threatened by the perceived loss of her masculinity.

I'll just say it right here. Ranma-chan is never going to identify as strictly female. That's a boring tired trope of these kind of fics, and its use shows a serious lack of understanding of both Ranma's character as well as how gender identity functions. She'll always be genderqueer to some extent, though how much remains to be seen. She is, and remains, a person with a substantial male identity and past trapped in a woman's body

Tl;dr, this fic ain't going where other Ranma-chan fics go. You're off the edge of the map, here there be monsters.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Lost Causes**

Given the circumstances, the transgendered redhead would have much rather have been alone. Forever. It was much more preferable to getting cooped up in a Catholic monastery deep in the Pyrenees with her father, Ryoga, and her male counterpart. Worse, the monks were nothing if not inquisitive, which was made all the more frustrating by the language barrier. They had spent the better part of a day poking and prodding at her as well as her male half, all the while wearing some quite concerned looks on their faces. They conversed with one another in a tongue she hadn't yet heard; it sounded alien, but somehow similar to the local languages of the area. Whatever it was, it was important, for when they spoke in that language their voices carried an almost reverent quality. She didn't know why, but something about it reminded her of the classical Japanese the teachers back home had tried to expose her to through so-called "classics" of Japanese literature.

While the monks performed their inquisitions, they insisted quite forcefully that Onna-Ranma stay seated, and separate from her male counterpart. Occasionally, Ryoga or Genma could be heard knocking from the other side of the reliquary's great wooden door, often demanding some sort of explanation. It was entirely useless, as none of them spoke a word of Japanese, but if anything it did at least make them feel like they were doing something. Which was good, she supposed. Things sucked right now, but she was still quite aware of how much worse they could get.

She was boring of this process quickly. The room smelled musty, the kind of smell that only truly ancient buildings had, regardless of how well they were taken care of. Since the room was adorned with strange symbols and icons she couldn't hope to understand, it went a long way to rubbing in that constant feeling of being lost far, far away from home.

After what seemed like an eternity, the monks began to depart, finally allowing her companions to see her. The thick wooden door was soon flung open as Genma barreled his way into the room, demanding to know the meaning of this. But his words fell on deaf ears as the monks filed out, for a smoke break or whatever it was that monks did. Ranma-chan certainly didn't know.

"Pops, don't make a fuss, I'm alright."

Genma tried to hide it, but there was a palpable look of relief on his face upon hearing those words. "Well boy, I can't entirely be certain, but I think the old white haired one said something about taking us to some airport and flying us back home. Which is good. The sooner we get back to Nerima, the sooner you can explain this whole dreadful situation to your mother?"

"Whoa, wait a minute, me explain? This was your crummy idea in the first place! Why should I have to explain this to her." Ranma-chan replied in a huff.

"It's very simple. You are her beloved child. She'll take the news better if you explain it to her."

"You mean that _you'll _avoid her wrath? Ain't gonna work, old man. You're in the dog house over this one." She wanted to sound sure, but in truth, she didn't' have the foggiest idea about how her mother would react. After all, mom had always wanted a daughter…

She shivered at the thought. Saotome Ranma couldn't ever be someone's daughter, no matter how female she was at the moment. It would just be too much, having the expectation of being a proper daughter for her mother. And at this moment, she really needed some air. Ignoring Genma's pontifications, she stormed out of the abbey into the courtyard. It was dusk now, and the cool mountain air was a welcome refreshment.

A deep breath of fresh air filled her lungs, and she began to relax. She didn't know or much care where Ryoga or her other half had gone off to. It was better to be alone at this moment.

Unfortunately, she wasn't. "Señorita Saotome, may I have words with you for a moment?" Great, it was the one monk in this whole place who could actually talk to her, however frustrating it was. She hadn't paid enough attention in English classes for this to be anything but painful.

"What do you want, _baka_? Come to poke at me more?" She normally spoke quickly when speaking Japanese, but speaking in English, she carefully formed her sentences, pausing often to make sure she was choosing the right word.

The gray-haired old man allowed himself a light chuckle. "No need to be so defensive, señorita, I meant no offense."

"Defensive?"

"Like you are prepared to fight."

"I…know what defensive means. So, what is it?"

"I just wanted to talk. You've been through a lot lately, and I can't help but feel partly responsible."

"_Hikaemena hyōgen_."

The old monk chewed over the moment thoughtfully. "I beg your pardon…"

Ranma-chan sighed with frustration. Lacking the words to convey what she meant was a bit like fighting with her strength totally sapped. "It means like saying something that is less than what it is," she offered, hoping it would be enough.

"An understatement, then?"

She nodded, then turned to lean on the weathered wooden fence separating the garden from the courtyard. Leaning as she did accentuated her cleavage, and were it not for the melancholy look on her face, one might think she was doing it on purpose. But Onna-Ranma neither realized nor cared at the moment. She just stared off into the distance, looking towards the ranges of the Pyrenees.

The old man evidently noticed, but he didn't stare. Well, not for too long anyway.

Ranma-chan apparently noticed. "Don't get too used to the view, I won't be here for long."

He played innocent, and copied her posture, leaning on the slightly rickety fence to stare off into space. After a quiet moment listening to the owls and other night fauna, he piped up. "Actually, _mi amiga_, I was thinking of how much of a man you still are in spite of all this."

Her curiosity piqued, Ranma perked up. "What is that supposed to mean."

"From what I can tell in our short time together, and hearing from you and your companions about your curse, you've shown extraordinary resilience of character."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not really sure. You are perplexing, and you've forced me to reconsider a lot of what I had assumed to be true about manhood and womanhood. I don't think you have anything to fear."

"That is easy for you to say, Spaniard." she scoffed.

The evening breeze was nice. Almost too brisk really. After a long, awkward silence, the priest stretched uncomfortably, his old bones aching with the weather. "Come inside, _mi amiga_, I'll make you some tea, and we'll see about getting you and your friends back home as soon as possible."

Ran-chan had somewhat reluctantly followed the old man into the monastery's kitchen. Tea sounded nice, and as much as she dreaded going home, she was anxious to get it over with as soon as possible.

Before long, the tea was on the stove and boiling. Neither said a word while the black tea steeped, and as soon as the kettle began to whistle, the wizened monk fetched some porcelain cups along with milk and sugar. He set a cup and saucer in front of where Ranma sat at the rough wooden table. He filled her cup before his own, then set the kettle back on the stove.

"It's probably not like you're used to, but I assure you it is drinkable," he said as he absentmindedly dropped sugar lumps into his cup.

Rather than brave an unknown tea, she decided to copy the Spaniard, adding milk and sugar to her own tea. The first sip was still too hot for her liking, but after a couple more sips she could appreciate the fruity, almost floral taste.

"How is it?" he asked.

"Different. But I don't mind."

"Good...so, about going home. We all feel partly responsible for what happened, we've decided to buy you and your friends plane tickets home to…Nerima wasn't it?"

She nodded silently, sipping her tea.

"Good, it'd be rather embarrassing if I had forgotten already. We'll have to get you to Barcelona first. And while you're there, since I expect it will be a day or two until your flight, I'd like to show you some things."

"What things?"

"Something to give you a little perspective. Maybe help you feel less like the world is ending."

"Whatever…" she scoffed.

They sat silently for a few more minutes, finishing their tea. She'd occasionally glance up at him, before returning to a pensive contemplation of her emptying tea cup.

"Ranma, I get a feeling there is a question you want to ask me."

Silently, she got up to pour herself more tea. She prepared it with almost mechanical efficiency, sitting down across from the old man again. "Ok, since you asked…just what the hell is the deal with that sword? The book that _oyaji_ found didn't say anything about this!"

"The artifact you went in search of is the legendary sword Durandal. It is a legendary weapon, whose origins are shrouded in mystery. Some say it was originally the sword of the great hero Hektor of Troy. Others say it was forged by Wayland the Smith over fifteen hundred years ago, out of the same steel and temper as Joyeuse and Cortana. At any rate, it once belonged to the great hero Roland. When he was about to be captured by the Saracens, he attempted to break it so it wouldn't fall into his enemies' hands. But it proved too resilient, and he only succeeded in carving a great pass in the mountains. Finally, he threw his sword into a poisoned stream before succumbing to his wounds. There it remained, until it was moved to the shrine where you found it."

Ranma sighed with exasperation. "I've run into enough cursed artifacts back home, I guess it's only fitting I find one on the other side of the world."

"So…the man you travel with that turns into a panda because of the curse, he is your father, is he not?"

"Yeah. This isn't the first training journey he's brought me on, but I'm sure it will be the last," she said bitterly.

"So he's the one who taught you how to fight?"

She nodded silently. The details were irrelevant, and her father had been the one who trained her first and the most of all the various teachers she'd learned from.

"What about the rest of your family? Is your mother…still around?" the monk said delicately.

Ranma instinctively tensed up at the thought. Images of the seppuku contract and her mother's rather…eccentric ways flashed before her eyes. "Yeah…you could say that."

"Is she the reason why you dread going back?"

Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know. Finally, she settled on "Not really…there's someone else who I'd rather not have to face."

"Oh…mind if I ask who?"

"My…my _konyaku_— no _koibito_.(1) Sorry, I don't know the English word." She silently cursed herself…of all the words to not know, why this one."

"Well, perhaps you could describe this person to me."

"Her name is Akane…our fathers arranged for us to…" crap, another word missing, but she recovered, "join our two families before we were even born. I guess you could say she is like a friend but more important, though I have a hard time telling her that."

She shifted uncomfortably, thinking about it. What would Akane think of all this? The last wedding didn't work out, and now the cure turned out like this. A sudden unbearable thought crossed her mind. Her other half was cured…the last barrier to their marriage was gone. She wasn't needed anymore. Thinking about it hurt, almost to the point of wanting to cry, but she fought back the urge in front of this stranger.

"Oh, like a fiancée maybe? You're supposed to be married, hence why the search for the cure."

She nodded silently.

"And now you don't want to face her."

She nodded again.

"Well…I cannot pretend to know what you're going through right now. But it seems to me you shouldn't let your present condition get in the way."

That was…surprising to say the least coming from him. Ranma didn't know what to say, so she listened.

"A few hours ago, I don't think I would have said that. But your situation is unique, to say the least. Do you love her, this Akane?"

"_Hai…_er yes."

"Then show her. I don't think you have anything to lose."

A small chuckle escaped her lips. She tried to stifle the laughter, but it kept growing. She laughed so hard she lost her balance and fell off the bench. She landed on the cold floor with a thud, but that barely stifled the guffaws. As she caught her breath, in between gasps she said, "Oh wow…I'm getting relationship advice from a _gaijin_ monk. Aren't you supposed to be, you know…single?"

"Actually, I'm a priest, not a monk. And I wasn't always a priest, I'll have you know."

Ranma got up and dusted herself off. "Oh, let me guess…'In my day I was _soooo handsome.'_"

Now he was indignant. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I was a strapping young man myself once."

"Whatever…"

* * *

Ranma-chan couldn't believe he'd let that old man talk her into this. Barcelona was a strange city, filled with people speaking a strange language she couldn't understand. The billboards and signs were all filled with familiar letters arranged in totally unfamiliar ways.

Not that it didn't have its charms, though. It was as loud and bustling as any Japanese city, and the people there seemed to be going about their daily lives in much the same way as back home. Riding the bus to the city's heart had shown her as much. But most importantly, in some strange ways she was not a center of attention in spite of being a foreigner. It was almost a relief.

Her female form's fiery hair and blue eyes made her look like a foreigner in her own country. Coupled with her natural beauty, and this always ensured she was the center of attention. But here, half-way around the world in this strange land, she could finally be anonymous. It was liberating really, though she was sure this wasn't quite what the priest had in mind.

He'd brought her here on mission. He'd decided that she needed to see something.

"So where are we headed, old man?" she asked as they disembarked from the city bus. Wherever they were, it was in an old part of the city. The buildings were old, made of stone or old weathered brick. The tan colors of the buildings shone quite brightly in the early morning sun, though there seemed to be just enough shade from awnings and gnarled trees to keep temperatures comfortable.

"We are heading into the _Barri G__òtic_, to a square called _Plaça __Sant Felip Neri__. _There is a memorial here I would like to show you, a place from my youth."

She followed several steps behind the priest, walking along stone paved streets. The cathedral and surrounding buildings they were walking to had seen better days. Ancient almost. "Just how old are you?"

"Old enough to have lived in a very different world. Come, the foot traffic is light today, but we shouldn't tarry."

They rounded a corner, following a narrow alley into the Cathedral square. The hustle and bustle of the modern city disappeared, replaced with a tomb-like silence. Not even the acacia trees were swaying in the breeze.

The façade of the old stone church was crumbling, with dozens of great pockmarks the size of grape fruit or larger pitting its sides. There was a weathered bronze plaque nearby.

Ranma walked over to the scarred stone wall. She delicately brushed her fingers across the broken stone surface, feeling the rough breaks and pits. She turned back to the old man. "What are you showing me?"

"The ghosts of the past. This is just a simple memorial to a shameful time in the past. One the world would like to forget. Ranma…when I was about your age, I wasn't a schoolboy, or off gallivanting across the world studying martial arts. I was a volunteer fighting in my country's civil war. Fifty years ago, a group of soldiers supported by various groups launched an attack on my country's democratic government."

Ranma didn't know much about history, especially outside of East Asia. But she knew enough to know how serious something like this was. Still, she was confused. Soldiers are supposed to protect a country, not attack it. "Why…why would they do that?"

"I suppose there were many reasons. All of them bad, but reasons nonetheless. Some of the leaders did it out of lust for power. Others did it out of a fear that the masses would limit their privilege now that they were organized. Some did it because they were told to." He joined Ranma at the wall, placing his hand next to the plaque. He closed his eyes solemnly. "In 1938, the Falangists demanded the surrender of this city. When they would not, they did what they had always done before. They began dropping bombs on the civilians. A group were taking refuge here in this church when a bomb fell on it. The basement collapsed, and around forty people were killed. Mostly children."

There was a definite hint of regret in the old man's voice. Enough that Ranma was almost afraid to ask her next question: "And which side did you fight on?"

Wordlessly, he began rolling up the sleeve on his right arm. There was an old tattoo on his bicep, a faded red three-pointed star. "The right side. The losing side," he replied mournfully. Anticipating her next question, "It's the symbol of the Popular Front, the side defending the democratic government and people of Spain."

The tomblike silence of the square was almost oppressive. "I think I understand why you brought me here," she said quietly, out of respect for the ghosts of the past. "The lesson you want me to learn."

"I figured it would be the best way to teach you, from one warrior to another. As a martial artist, you've honed your body and mind to fight. But you must never once forget to question why you fight." He began leading Ranma to a nearby bench, out of the shadow of the great stone wall. "What is the duty of the martial artist, Ranma?"

"_Oyaji_ always said it was to protect the weak."

"No, the duty of those who can fight is to protect _the innocent_," he stressed, "strong or weak, honest or not. Always remember that. And remember that there is no shame in losing, especially when the cause is just. We must swallow our pride and do what is necessary."

She nodded in silent agreement. It seemed to make a whole lot of sense.

"There is real suffering in this world. You've experienced but a small portion of it. Don't get caught up in your own suffering and forget that others are also facing a tough life."

It was hard to admit, but she'd always been self-centered. And it wasn't going to change overnight. Still, it was something to think about. "Whatever you say, Spaniard."

"I told you, I'm not Spanish, I'm Basque. Not everyone from Spain is Spanish. Didn't your sensei tell you not to assume?"

* * *

The flight had been long. Going half way around the world was expensive, and the monks were cheap, so that meant many stops and many layovers. Flying coach no less. At least it had given her time to think. About how to break things to mom, where in the hell she fit in among the Nerima wrecking crew. Why on earth would they want two Ranmas, especially when one was most decidedly not marriage material anymore? She also dwelled on what the priest had tried to teach her.

Strangely, in all this time she hadn't spent much time thinking about why she fought. It was just a given. Fighting was as much a part of her life as eating or sleeping. She'd almost always fought for herself, for some personal goal of self-improvement or self-defense.

The old man had spent the rest of the day they had to kill in Barcelona showing her the poverty and squalor in the underbelly of the land of plenty. She'd seen inklings of this in Japan, but she'd never thought to look closer at the problem. It had been practically invisible.

She'd never given much thought to it. But that wasn't the problem. No one seemed to give much thought about what life was like outside their narrow horizons. It was a rough problem to dwell on, and it made her head spin.

But that would all have to wait. Because now they were ten minutes out of Tokyo, and it was time to pay the piper. She groggily unplugged her headphones from the portable tape player, and stuffed them into her carryon pack. Tired and jet-lagged to hell, and now she was going home.

At the least the window seat had been nice. Ryoga was still asleep beside her, drooling slightly onto the snoring Genma's shoulder.

A mischevious cat-like grin appeared on her face. "I wish I had a camera," she whispered.

She was quite surprised that her male half wasn't asleep as well. He replied, "It is quite a sight. Should we wake them, or just leave em on the plane, and see which country end up in?"

She laughed in spite of herself. Maybe the world wasn't over with after all.

* * *

Scratch that, it really was.

Why did it have to be Akane, of all people, who was there to meet them at the airport? Ranma-chan had been some ways ahead of the rest, looking for a familiar face in the busy airport terminal. That's when he'd seen her, waiting with Nabiki. Upon seeing the red-haired girl, Akane's face lit up with a warm smile. She rushed over to Ranma-chan, grasping her in a firm hug.

Ran-chan dropped her luggage, slowly wrapping her arms around the other girl. She held her tightly, squeezing the tomboy's toned body to her own. This was going to be difficult. A single silent tear streamed down Ran-chan's cheek as she fought back the waterworks. A single thought went through her mind: I failed you.

"Oh Ranma," cried Akane, "It's so good to have you back. You've been gone so long…I've missed you terribly. I don't care that you didn't find a cure, just don't leave again like that. I…I couldn't bear it!" Tears were welling up in Akane's eyes as well. Absence makes the heart go fonder, it seemed, and it was nice in this brief moment before the inevitable disappointment to not be fighting with her fiancé.

It was hard, but it had to be done. Ranma-chan pulled Akane away from her, holding her gently at the waist, and looking her straight in the eye. The truth had to be told.

Akane looked so happy to see her for once, it was a sin to ruin it. "Akane-chan…there's something I have to tell you."

She sensed something was wrong immediately. Akane's grip on her shoulders tightened, and the mirth on her face changed to worry. "What is it Ranma?"

"Yo, Akane!" said a familiar voice behind Ran-chan. She winced immediately upon hearing it.

Akane thought her ears were deceiving her. But as she looked over the red-haired girl's shoulder, a familiar black haired boy looked back her, a sheepish grin on his face. "Ranma…what's going on?"

Akane pushed Ran-chan away, stepping back in shock. Two Ranmas now stood side by side, both equally at a loss for how to explain the situation.

* * *

1. Here Ranma begins to say the formal term for fiance, but corrects half way and uses a more informal, personal term. It has the connotation of "beloved" as well.


	4. Heard in Dreams, Spoken in Nightmares

_**Amor Fati**_

**Notes:** Not much to say here, other than for once I have kept my promise on finishing a new chapter faster than the previous one. Without spoiling anything, I should probably say that this chapter probably pushes the boundary of what is acceptable for a T rating, but I really don't see much of a reason to re-rate yet.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Heard in Dreams, Spoken in Nightmares**

Well, one disastrous reunion down. Now…how to break it to everyone else. As they rode the train to Nerima in silence, once again her mind wandered. Mostly about Akane, and by extension the rest of her family, but also about the rest of her friends. She wasn't the sharpest tack, but she knew a bit about how to read people. Mostly during a fight, but it also carried over into the rest of her life if she actually bothered to not go off half-cocked or be too bored to bother. And right now, she was stumped.

This wasn't just a matter of boredom though. It was an early morning train, not too crowded, but she elected to stand anyway, hanging tightly onto the overhead handhold. Standing helped her think at least. And this one was a bit of a doozy.

Every now and then, Akane would look up the train car at her. But it was the furtive kind of glance that someone did when they didn't want to look like they were looking at someone. Ryoga sat right beside Akane, in between her and the male half. He looked as lost as ever.

As for the boy who had the life she wanted, he was practically half asleep.

Pops had been surprisingly delicate to her during the whole affair. But Ran-chan could easily sense the truth. His ambition for uniting the two schools remained as strong as ever, and though this had created "unnecessary complications" (his words), he was quite content that a barrier to fulfilling his old promise to Soun was now gone.

That's what amounted to surprising delicacy for Saotome Genma. Overhearing that conversation with Ranma-kun had resulted in Ran-chan hurling the old bastard into a public fountain in downtown Barcelona. The resulting panic caused by an angry kung fu panda had not been her finest moment, but satisfying nonetheless. Working off some steam beating her old man to a pulp helped keep her focused.

Her thoughts kept drifting back towards her reunion with Akane. It was quite clear that she wasn't the one engaged to Akane anymore, and that hurt in a way she didn't fully understand. Meeting with Akane in the airport had felt like open heart surgery, and that bastard had ruined her one chance to explain thing things to Akane delicately. Not that it would have really mattered, really…sometimes it's just better to show rather than tell.

Akane had pushed her away in shock upon seeing two Ranmas. It wasn't hard for her to guess that the latest scheme for a cure had gone to shit in a truly spectacular manner. Akane had thrust her away amid the busy throngs of commuters, pained and shocked by the revelation. She'd asked them both "What's going on?" in terrified confusion.

Neither of them had a good answer at that moment. Ran-chan had lowered her head in shame, while Ranma desperately wracked his brain looking for a way to not be blamed for this. For either of them to be blamed.

"Look…Akane, don't go berserk just yet like you usually do!" he had protested.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Akane shouted back.

"Would you let me just explain?" he said in huff.

"Well then spit it out!"

"Don't blame me for this, it's not his fault," Ran-chan interrupted, "Wait, what I mean is don't blame him…I didn't do anything wrong…you know what I mean!"

Ryoga had caught up right now, and was trying not to laugh from the pronoun confusion.

"I don't care whose fault this is. I just want to know what's going on. There are two of you standing right here." Akane's gaze shifted back and forth between the two of them, as though she were looking for an imposter.

Ryoga had silently slipped behind them both, dumping a bottle of cold water over Ranma's head.

"Oi! What the hell was that for P-chan?!" shouted Ranma. He turned to glare at Ryoga, as though he were preparing for a fight.

"You should really be nicer to Akane, Ranma," Ryoga replied, as stern as a schoolmaster.

"Ranma…" said Akane, "Your curse…what's going on."

Ranma took a few deep breaths, getting his temper back under control from his instinctual but now totally unnecessary blowup from being splashed with cold what. Still he couldn't contain his giddiness as he said, "The curse is gone, Akane. I'm back to normal."

Ran-chan had seethed hearing it for the first time. She was seething sitting on the train thinking about the incident. "I am standing right here, you bastard," she had replied.

Now she was standing right there in the train, wondering if that's what her friends really thought about her. That she wasn't really Ranma, just his curse. A reflection of the person she'd once been. She didn't want to think about that possibility.

* * *

Ran-chan silently confronted the most deadly enemy she'd ever faced: the Tendo furo. Cursing silently, she slid the door closed behind her, and crept into the bathroom. On the road home, bathing had been quick and unceremonious. Cold water and swift bathing wouldn't invite contemplation. But here, oh there'd be time and opportunity to contemplate the full terror of her new existence. And the Tendo furo had always had a supernatural ability to attract hijinks of all kinds.

What it would be this time, it was impossible to know. All she could do was hope that she'd be alone, and not find Ryoga, Shampoo or Happosai or anyone else from the Nerima wrecking crew.

No sense in dawdling, she told herself. Just get in and get it done. Besides, she hadn't bathed since Barcelona, so it was time for a good soak. She stripped off her familiar red tangzhaung, leaving it in a crumpled heap at her feet. Next her baggy slacks puddled around her feet, and with them her boxers. Completely exposed and vulnerable in her nudity, she trembled for a moment before sitting at the shower stool.

She contemplated just getting it over with, and facing the hot water that wouldn't bring her masculinity back. But that just didn't seem right. Not now, after that heartwrenching reunion at the airport. If she was to live through this, she had to find a way to live with this.

The old man had met with her as kindred spirit, as a fellow warrior. He'd suggested, in his own way, to do what she'd always done best in this new life: fight. But not for its own sake, not for herself, but to fight for a cause greater than herself. But how could she do that if each day in this body felt like a prison?

No, sooner or later she'd have to have a truce with this feminine body, Ranma thought to herself, as she idly acquainted herself with her body. Her exquisite body, she quickly amended, as she ran her deft hands over her flawless skin and tight muscles. She laughed self-consciously as she caressed her own legs and toned abdomen.

"I guess it could be worse," she said, laughing nervously, "At least I get to be sexy. I don't know what I'm going to do with this body, but at least it's a good one."

Shapely curves, ample breasts, red hair and blue eyes? She could definitely think of worse permanent exiles than this one. Besides, what was so wrong about this body anyway? It took being confronted with the permanent loss of her masculinity through the Full Body Cat's Tongue to really even begin to think of her girl side as really her own body. And even then, it hadn't really been a complete realization. Living a short life time a man had always meant that her male body felt more real to her. More hers.

Her girl side had been a vacation from herself at best, and a curse all too often. It was nice to be able to cut loose, whether to exploit femininity or indulge in some ice cream. But now all that was left was the vacation property. Her home was lost to her forever. The inmates were running the asylum.

While she tried to remain stoically placid on the outside, on the inside she was a churning cauldron of mixed emotions sitting naked and exposed. Fear at facing her mother fought with a queer sense of relief at the prospect of not having to live up to anyone's expectation of what it was to be manly. But she felt emasculated at the same time, and for better or worse at this moment she felt that being male was right for her.

But that wasn't the worst part. Of all the people to have to meet at the airport, why did it have to be Akane? Akane was the one person in the universe she couldn't bear to disappoint anymore, not after all they'd been through in this crazy betrothal. Akane didn't deserve to have a freak for a fiancé...that was the only reason why she'd agreed to Pop's hare-brained scheme to go questing for yet another cure of the Jusenkyo curse.

She let out a loud, exasperated sigh just thinking about it. Now was time to start washing away her troubles, she thought as she shivered with barely concealed rage. Akane hadn't wanted him to go through with it, in spite of how annoyed she tended to be about the inconveniences and constant mishaps that her curse had seemed to attract.

Ran-chan started the tap, facing the onslaught of cold water from the shower head. Slowly the water turned tepid, then hot. She faced the stream of hot water like a condemned man facing a firing squad. The final confrontation with the truth had come. The curse was gone. Or rather, her whole life had become nothing but a curse.

After a quick rinse, she turned the tap off, and started lathering up the soap on her wash cloth. It was nice to get properly clean again, in spite of everything, and so Ranma-chan concentrated on that blissful feeling of cleansing, letting everything else fall to the back of her mind. It had been a while since she'd bathed properly as a girl, when she'd been under the power of the Locking Ladle.

She delicately washed her lady parts, feeling uncomfortable all the way. She hadn't gotten used to this part of her curse yet, and as far as she knew she never would. It just didn't feel right, and the minute amount of sexual thrill she'd gotten from exploring her female form's body had always been overpowered by the uneasy feeling that her body shouldn't be this way.

And it always made her feel like a pervert. She was a guy after all, and guys who got a cheap thrill from voyeurism, watching or touching a woman's body were perverts. And this didn't feel like her body yet, and perhaps it never would.

Not that she hadn't thought of pleasuring herself as a woman. As she was lathering the soap into the short red hair of her muff, she was thinking about it right now. Wondering what it would feel like, if it would be better, worse or different than as a man. But she resisted the urge of curiosity. Life had never been too keen on giving her privacy, and it wouldn't be a matter of _if_, but rather _when_ she would be caught. She'd never live it down.

The door to the bathroom suddenly opened, and fast as lightning her hands moved away from her loins up to shield her breasts. She looked over her shoulder, shooting an evil glare at the door. Damn it, couldn't she have a bit of alone time right now?

It was Akane standing there, wearing nothing but a towel. She grinned sheepishly, and tip-toed into the immaculate tiled bathroom.

"Uwaa…Akane?! What are you doing?!" cried Ranma-chan.

Akane laughed uneasily as she slipped in to kneel down behind Ran-chan. "Ne, Ranma…I just wanted to…well, you know…see how you're holding up. I thought maybe I'd wash your back, and help you get accustomed to being a girl."

The feeling of Akane's surprisingly dainty hands on her back added to Ran-chan's unease. It was nice for Akane to not be so combative, but this was…well laying it on a little thick. Just like the soap Akane was aggressively lathering up on her back.

While she thought of a way to put her thoughts into words in a more delicate fashion so as to not ruin a beautiful moment by aggressively cramming her own foot in her mouth, Ran-chan let herself enjoy Akane's touch. There was a thrill each time skin touched skin, and even that tomboy's rough massaging motion felt oddly soothing. Ran-chan told herself it was because she was tough and could take her muscle-bound fiancée's (?) lack of daintiness.

But that seemed to be hollow, as she slowly turned into jelly under Akane's touch. It was hard to feel tough with this petite, buxom body. "Look, Akane…it's not like I don't appreciate it or nothing…but I'm still a guy at heart. Are you sure you want to do this."

Akane spun the redhead around, pulling her into kneel facing one another. Akane held onto her shoulders tightly so she wouldn't worm away from this. This girl needed someone to be firm with her about this. After a quiet moment, the blushing transgendered girl stopped averting her eyes, and looked straight back into Akane's eyes.

"Ranma…I know this is difficult for you to face, but you are a girl now. I'd…I'd be a crappy friend if I didn't help you adjust. And that means doing normal girl things with other girls. You don't have to be some reserved little _yamato nadeshiko_(1). You can be…well…an 'uncute tomboy' like me. But you're going to have to get used to being a girl." Akane tried her hardest to keep some levity in her tone, but it was hard. In truth, she wasn't entirely sure if she could truly see even Ranma's female form given life as really a girl, and she was fighting the urge to run away screaming 'pervert!'

The sense of partial responsibility for this outcome was what led her to bury this feeling and stay. She couldn't do subtlety…but she had to try something to make this sullen girl feel like she still had a place to belong.

And right now, the former guy was looking more feminine than she was. A little irksome, but it was hard to hate those big, misty blue eyes desperately fighting back tears, or those trembling pouty lips.

"Listen, Ranma…" Akane continued, cutting her off before she could interject, "I know this is rough, but you don't have to say anything. I…I don't want there to be anything between us anymore. We've fought and feuded for too long. We get on each other's nerves too much, but right now _I am here for you_. You don't have to put up a strong front for me anymore…I can't help but feel like this is partly my fault. Just please find the courage to keep moving forward."

Why did it have to take this for feuding to end? Ranma couldn't help but wonder if this karmic punishment for defying Jusenkyo's destiny.

"Akane…" whispered Ran-chan. The waterworks started, slowly at first, but with growing intensity. She hadn't felt like crying this hard anytime sense Mikado stole her first kiss. This girl who she'd been willing to die for, had fought for, even killed for, was right here at arm's length. She could reach out and touch…but then she'd only realize the light-years of distance between them now.

Ran-chan could feel it. A chapter of her life was ending. The journey that had begun a year ago with the Old man dragging her to the Tendo dojo to unite the Saotome and Tendo schools was coming to an end. All the fighting, all the bad blood caused by the betrothal, all the pain and heartache was over. All for nothing.

Akane pulled the sobbing girl into a tight hug. She forgot her modesty just for this moment, and forgot that Ran-chan had once been a man cursed to turn into a woman when splashed with cold water. A small voice in the back of her head warned her that Nabiki could burst in at any moment and take some compromising photos that would be sure to fetch an exorbitant price. But for the sake of the boy she had loved, now transformed into this sobbing emotional wreck of a girl, she ignored that dread.

She ignored her jealousy at the former boy's nicer figure, or her better toned body, and just held her close in silent embrace until the sobbing subsided. She could still feel the warm tears on her neck where Ran-chan had buried her face. She had to protect this emasculated boy's moment of weakness, and comfort her.

Akane rubbed her hand up and down the poor girl's back, soothing her cries. "Ne, Ranma…remember when we first met?"

Ran-chan slowly mimicked her motion. She nodded silently as the two started gently swaying back and forth to some unknown rhythm.

"I still remember it like it was yesterday. Daddy informed us that one of us would have to get married, and that his old friend was dragging our new fiancé to see us. Then he turned out to be panda, and there was this embarrassed red-haired girl standing there, saying 'sorry about all this.'"

Ran-chan allowed herself a small smile at that memory. It had been mortifying then, but in retrospect it was kind of funny.

"I was so happy to meet another serious girl martial artist. Even though you were so much better than me, it was so fun sparring with you," Akane whispered. "I knew instantly that we had to be close friends. I want to go back to that feeling…I don't want to fight and feud with you anymore. But like it or not Saotome Ranma, you're stuck with me for life."

Akane's words were meant warmly and sincerely, but they stabbed into Ran-chan's heart like an icy knife. Akane had finally confirmed her worst fear, which she had tried desperately to ignore or deny. Akane wasn't a pervert…she couldn't love another girl like she had once loved her as a boy.

She felt sick at the revelation. Her last hope was being snatched away. Not maliciously, but by someone with the very best of intentions. Had it been vicious, Ran-chan could have taken refuge in anger. But the only way forward now was abandoning hope.

No…not without a fight. She may have lost her masculinity, but she was still Saotome Ranma, and Saotome Ranma never loses.

Ran-chan gently pushed away. She had to say this to Akane's face, or it would be meaningless. Unconsciously, one hand went up to brush Akane's cheek, while the other fell to the small of her back. They were still close enough that their breasts pushed together, and they could feel the tickle of the other's breath on their lips. "Akane…I love you. I love you so much…I just…I just can't go to just being friends with you. I couldn't bear it."

Before Akane could respond, Ran-chan crushed her lips to her own, kissing the stunned other girl as passionately as she knew how. Her novice efforts were clumsy though, and kneeling together on the slick tile floor they quickly lost their balanced and tumbled down. Akane fell backwards with Ran-chan tumbling on top of her, their lips still pressed together, but before she smacked into the hard floor, Ran-chan caught their fall.

With one hand still cradling the small of Akane's back, and the other supporting both of their weight, Ran-chan gently lowered Akane's body to the floor. Now lying flat, their wet, soapy, toned bodies sliding effortlessly across each other, Ran-chan pulled Akane's body closer, deepening the kiss.

The kiss was a bit clumsy, and neither had much experience. But they both responded to it, their lips inviting more. Akane too pulled Ran-chan close in a moment of mindless bliss, raking her nails across the redhead's back while their lips, and then tongues, danced together for a few fleeting moments.

For that fleeting few moments, it felt like victory. But it wasn't to last. Akane slowly regained her senses, and gently pushed Ran-chan away. Gasping for air, Ran-chan looked into Akane's eyes. Akane saw a hurt, scared and lonely girl looking down at her. It felt like betrayal.

A terrified girl was looking up at Ran-chan. Akane may have pushed her friend away slowly, but the grip she had on Ran-chan's shoulders was positively tense. In between ragged breaths panting for air, the frightened girl swallowed nervously, but she didn't push Ran-chan any further away.

"Akane…I'm not trying to mess with you or anything…I meant what I said," Ran-chan whispered, "I love you more than I can say. I'm not good at expressing it, but please believe me when I say that it doesn't mean I don't feel. When I thought you had died…when I thought I was too late in defeating Saffron…I felt like crawling into a hole and dying. I don't want to be just friends with you…I'm sorry for this I guess, but I can't regret…I just guess I though you loved me…"

The fear in Akane's face turned to anger. "Ranma! How can you say that…after all this! Of course I love you!"

"Then why? Why are you pushing me away? Why did you look so scared?"

"I'm sorry…but I just can't do these sorts of things with another girl. Had any other girl tried to kiss me, I'd have sent her flying and ran away. I'm not running away because I love you. I just can't be…intimate…with another girl."

Ran-chan's heart wilted at that. Akane's kindness was continuing to be surprisingly cruel. And she couldn't deny it. Even without the constant insinuations the tomboy had gotten about her sexuality, Akane probably wouldn't have ever been attracted to girls. And because of it…she was remarkably sensitive about being thought of as a lesbian. Being betrothed to an aquatranssexual hadn't helped that insecurity.

The last desperate gamble had come up short. The tomboy had been momentarily surprised by the depths of her passion, and had allowed herself to forget for a moment the simple biological facts that stood between them. Their mutual feelings had finally been confirmed, but it was too late. It always had been too late.

What was their left of their relationship? Without love, without the engagement, who were they to each other? Going back to that first moment, back to being friends without any complications? Ran-chan hoped she could live with that.

* * *

1. Figuratively, a "flower of Japanese womanhood", it's the traditional aesthetic ideal of femininity in Japanese culture. Tendo Kasumi is probably the best exemplar of that in the series.


	5. Tadaima!

_**Amor Fati**_

**Notes:** Nothing much to say, other than things seem to be hitting their stride. I probably should have pointed this out earlier, but I'm mostly basing this story on manga continuity, since I've read the whole manga, and have only seen parts of the anime. It's also, obviously, more complete. However, there may be some elements from the anime that I pull in from time to time.

Not strictly relevant to this chapter, but I've also decided to set this fic, chronologically, in the late 1980s. I'm going to treat the start of publication of the manga as the rough start of the series continuity, so this would put the current story in early 1988. This is mostly for aesthetic reasons…I happen to think that the 80s have their own charm in terms of culture, fashion, etc. Though I do like the added challenge of writing a period piece. I'm not sure if anyone else has adopted this approach or not…and from the Ranma fics I've read, pop culture references that filter in tend to be rather later.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Tadaima!**

Nodoka had thankfully been out of town visiting some old friends, and wouldn't be back for another couple days. This gave them all a reprieve from returning straight home and informing the Saotome matriarch that she now had two children instead of one. A reprieve that Genma, much to Ranma-kun's irritation, had already chosen to spend boozing with Soun.

Not that he'd admitted as much. Rather than return home immediately upon their plane's arrival in Tokyo, Genma had decided that his old friend Soun needed to be informed of this development immediately. Undoubtedly to find some way to advance their mutual marriage plans Ranma suspected.

Well, what's one more embarrassment today? He stepped off the train, pushing his way past morning commuters groggily heading to work. Coming home was never very relaxing; it meant stepping back into a spider's web of complications. Just who would be the one to accost them on the way to the Tendo dojo today? It wasn't a very long walk, but trouble seemed to be supernaturally attracted to him, especially within Nerima.

The coast was clear, and finally he allowed himself to enjoy the sweet morning air.

That was when he finally noticed Ran-chan standing on his left. He instantly recognized the look on her face. It was the same attentive, annoyed look he was wearing; the "where is the next annoyance going to come from look" that he'd had abundant practice with.

That was…uncanny to say the least. Rather than wait for the rest of the group, he decided to start walking toward the Tendo dojo and get this over with.

As he left the busy train terminal, he noticed another set of footfalls, slightly lighter than his own to his side. He'd been too busy looking out for a bicycle riding, ramen delivering Amazon to notice that Ran-chan had started the trek home as well.

"Are you following me?" they both said simultaneously.

That was a fluke. It had to be.

"I asked you first!" they chanted in unison.

Alright, now this was annoying. Vein popping irritation took over, and he stopped walking to face this strange doppelganger. Who had apparently had the same idea, and had decided to face him down.

It was almost like looking in a mirror. He still, on some level, recognized the face looking back at him as "his" face. But it wasn't really his anymore.

When he had first seen his double after using the artifact sword, it had never occurred to him that she might have his memories and his personality. Upon pricking his finger on the razor-sharp edge of the sword, he had felt a rush of ki flowing out from his body. The discharge had apparently been fast enough and violent enough to be visible to onlookers, a stream of bright light rushing out from his body.

He had momentarily lost consciousness, and when he came to he was male again. It was almost too much to believe, and in the rush of moment he had completely ignored his surroundings. He grabbed a canteen from his pack, and with a mixture of excited hope and dread he emptied its contents on his head. To his great joy he had remained male. Only then had he noticed the unconscious redhead.

"_Well crap_," he had thought. Just what he needed was some catch to a good thing. His life had enough complications in it already, and yet here's another one.

Copies were never a good thing. His giddiness at being cured evaporated instantly, and all he could do was dread whatever embarrassments this copy would foist upon him. Would this be a repeat of the amorous mirror clones? Or worse, she could be his evil twin, a veritable child of the damned with no other purpose than to cause mischief.

It had taken time over their meandering journey home, but he'd slowly stopped being so combative with his copy. She'd proven to be rather more mundane than the usual affair. She was a sullen, moody and violent tempered tomboy, so just like most of the female martial artists he knew. By the time they had left Barcelona, he'd come to the conclusion that she was like the sister he'd never had, a strange woman created from the magic of the curse and Durandal given life. Lost and confused, yes, but still relatable.

So as he stared at this face that had been once his, a little voice in the back of his head said "You're such an ass, Ranma." It all fell into place, and finally he noticed the pattern. Her behavior, her bitterness towards him, her refusal to be called a copy, the way she looked at him with eerie familiarity: she was on some level the same person as him.

No, it couldn't be. Then that would mean she had all the same memories, and the same personality as him. That can't be true, can it?

Oh shit.

She wasn't pushing people away because she didn't know them and had only come into being a few days ago. She was pushing them away _because she knew them_. Because, deep down, he had to admit to himself, he'd probably be just as scared, angry and depressed over losing his identity and masculinity to another Ranma.

He finally noticed he'd been staring for an uncomfortable length of time.

"What? S'there somethin' on my face?" said Ran-chan. She cocked her head, wondering just what the hell was wrong with him.

"Oh…nothing." He turned away, and did his best to pretend he didn't just have a life shaking epiphany.

"Whatever dweeb, let's just get on to the Tendo's and get this awkward crap over with."

Another little voice told him that now would probably be a good time to apologize to his other half for not realizing until now just what she was going through. Shit, Pop and Ryoga had to at least have suspected as much. Ranma had just figured that all the times that Pop had called the red haired girl "son" had just been force of habit. Ryoga had seemed to treat her the same as he'd always treated his girl side. Apparently they had figured it out before he did.

Though, in his defense, she hadn't exactly been very open to anyone. She was pissy and combative, and he really hadn't had the patience or the energy to bother asking her "just who are you, really?"

He started off after her, but wisely chose to keep a wide berth for the walk home. Luckily, they managed to avoid attracting any calamities their way, though the weather decided to turn sour once more for old time's sake, ensuring that they'd both arrive soaked by the pouring rain.

When they arrived at the Tendo residence, they let themselves in without knocking. At this time, anyone at home would be sitting down to breakfast, and it would be rude to disturb them, right? Kasumi worked hard enough as it was without having to answer the door in the middle of breakfast.

They walked silently into the dining room. Soun was sitting cross legged at the table, nonchalantly puffing away at a cigarette while reading the morning paper. Kasumi was just sitting down on the adjacent side of the table, getting ready to start serving breakfast. Upon noticing the two dripping wet Ranmas, Kasumi turned white as a sheet.

"Hey…Tendo-san, we're back," said Ranma.

Soun puffed away, not tearing his attention away from the newpaper. "Ah, Ranma my son, sounds like you've got your masculinity back. Congratulations son, though I'm sure Kasumi would appreciate it if you didn't drip all over the floors like that."

"Um, father, perhaps you should put the newspaper down," Kasumi said, managing to remain as demure as she could with the look of shock on her face.

Ran-chan cleared her throat. "Yeah, you see…about that…" she said.

Soun continued to devoutly ignore such distractions that threatened to tear him away from the masculine bliss that was the morning paper reading ritual. "Ah, and now you've lost it again son. You really should keep better track of your things."

"Daddy, put the paper down and look!" shrieked Kasumi.

Soun finally looked over his newspaper. He saw two Ranmas, one male and one female, staring back at him rather sheepishly.

"But…how…with the rain…now there's two of you…what's going on…oh dear I've gone cross-eyed…" was all he managed before passing out.

When he came to his senses near half an hour later, the rest of the travelers had trickled in. Both Ranma and his father were sitting next to Soun, waiting impatiently for him to get it out of his system. Nabiki was nowhere to be seen, though he vaguely recalled Genma talking about her being somewhere with that Ryoga kid, interrogating him about the trip. Akane too was missing, and so-was the red-haired girl Ranma.

"Oh…how will the household budget survive two Ranmas?" Soun moaned loudly. "We'll be down to rice and pickles before the end of the month!"

"Quit yer bellyaching Tendo, we've got something to discuss," said Genma. He absent mindedly pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, the exasperation with Soun's antics plain on his face.

Soun wearily sat up, stretching his old muscles. "Saotome my friend, like you really have much room to talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Soun fished the soft-pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, momentarily grateful that it hadn't been crushed. He lit up a one of the old-style non-filtered cigs before handing the pack and lighter to Genma. He took a long drag, breathing out a plume of smoke that would have looked more at home on his demon-head technique.

Genma swiftly lit up a cigarette as well, something which piqued Ranma's curiosity. His father wasn't a smoker as far as he knew, and in fact he hadn't ever really seen him partake. Genma silently offered the pack to Ranma, but he politely declined. With a shrug that said "Suit yourself," Genma returned the pack to its owner, breathing out long wisps of acrid smoke.

"I take it we have something important to discuss, Saotome," Soun said.

Genma coughed slightly, unaccustomed to the rough cigarettes. "Indeed, Tendo. As you can probably guess, my plan has half-succeeded."

"Is that what you're calling this, Pop?" Ranma snarked.

"You're here," Genma said, "and you're cured. I'd call that a big plus. But, on the other hand, I seem to have acquired a daughter along the way. She hasn't told me as much, but I suspect that just as she has Ranma's curse, she also has his memories and personalities. So what I'm saying is that she is another Ranma, only permanently female."

Soun exhaled another great lungful of smoke. "Does Nodoka know yet?"

"No, she doesn't." Genma studied the cigarette intensely before taking another drag. After a short fit of coughs, he said, "I suspect I may be a dead man."

"Indeed, Saotome." Soun flicked the cigarette over the ash tray. "You're welcome to stay here to ride the storm out."

"No, I don't think I'll being that." Genma had given up on smoking properly, and left the burning cigarette handing in his lip as he talked. The rough smoke tickled his nose, but at least it wasn't giving him coughing fits. Ranma though had to try to not laugh at how funny his voice sounded talking through pursed lips. "I can't keep this from my wife forever. The Saotome Secret Technique has its uses, and besides, she made it quite clear before we left for this trip that she wanted to spend some time with our son. We will be staying at our home. Though it appears that Ranma has a favor he'd like to ask of you."

"Indeed, we'll get to that in a minute, son," Soun said, smiling at Ranma. He couldn't help but be in a bit of a happy mood. Perhaps their next attempt at uniting the two schools wouldn't be so disastrous. "What about the…erm, the girl?"

"That's the favor I was going to ask," said Ranma. "It's just that it's hard enough having one of me around. We…we don't seem to be getting along to well, and if I know anything about her, it's that she's afraid of confronting mother…so could she stay with you for the time being? If it helps any, I think Akane would like this too. She said she wanted to help me…er her get accustomed to being stuck as a girl."

Soun thoughtfully puffed away on his cigarette for a moment. "Well, that seems reasonable," he muttered. "Having one extra mouth to feed, even if it is a Ranma sized appetite, is easily doable. She can stay here as long as she needs to. As far as I'm concerned, Saotome, your daughter is my daughter. Where is she, by the way?"

Kasumi, angelic as ever, descended in with some cups and a tea kettle. "Oh, it's good to see you're up now, father. Onna-Ranma is taking a bath right now. She said she didn't get a chance to shower at the hotel before boarding."

* * *

Ran-chan and Akane were taking a melancholy soak in the furo about this time. They had been sitting in silence at opposite ends of the tub for around five minutes. On some level, an invisible line had been crossed, though neither knew what that boundary had meant. What it meant was a mystery, but it wasn't hard to see that things were going to be changing. For the both of them.

Ran-chan had confirmed what Akane had desperately wanted to believe was true. That she hadn't just been hearing things at Jusendo. It also confirmed what she had been dreading. Ranma had not been able to really be true to himself…to herself…quite yet, and had tried to deny his confession. Whether it was because of embarrassment or fear it didn't matter. It had hurt all the same.

Ranma never really tried to hurt her feelings, but somehow that boy always had been quite adept at verbally wounding her. It was mostly due to carelessness, but in the end that didn't really matter. A kid raised his whole life based on the adage "sticks and stone may break my bones but words can never hurt me" to be a strong and self-reliant martial artist couldn't understand the deep emotional scars that careless words could leave. Even though he had quite a few himself.

Those psychological wounds were becoming quite visible now though. Whatever fears and doubts Ran-chan had weren't recent problems. They'd been there all along, and had been simmering barely contained under the lid for as long as she had the curse. Now that her male half was entirely lost to her, they couldn't be hidden any longer.

This silence was getting annoying. Akane wanted to talk about what just happened between them, but she was afraid it would only make things worse. But each casual glance over at Ran-chan made it clear that something had to be said. The poor girl was curled up, her knees pulled close to her chest. She seemed lost in thought, but the subtle quirks of her face that practically anyone but Akane would have missed betrayed everything.

Maybe words weren't what were needed, Akane wondered. Whatever became of their relationship, she would never forgive herself for doing nothing if Ran-chan slipped away. Gathering her courage, Akane slid to the other end of the Furo, sitting down next to the placid redhead. She put an arm around Ran-chan's shoulder, and with her other arm, she gently turned the other girl's head towards her own.

In many cultures, the eyes are considered the windows to the soul. It seemed apt, and for Akane a conversation held eye-to-eye was the most meaningful. Ran-chan had acquiesced easily enough, which was surprising in itself.

For a second, Akane had to remind herself that her own wonder at that girl's vibrant sapphire eyes was a purely aesthetic admiration and not something more primal. Ranma's eyes, whether as a man or a woman, were their best features. Akane cleared her throat nervously. "I mean what I said earlier," she whispered. "I am not letting you go. No matter what. You are too important to me, and we've been through far too much together, for me to let you slip out of my life."

Ran-chan sighed wistfully. A smile slowly appeared on her face. Slowly her flawless pink lips parted, revealing pearly whites as she chuckled. "_Whoa slow down there Akane…don't stare at her cute lips, no matter how much fuller they are than yours. The last thing she needs is for you to be…jealous, yeah that's it, jealous of her beauty._"

Ran-chan just stared back into Akane's eyes for a long moment. The red-haired girl swallowed hard, as her eyes darted back and forth between Akane's lips and her soft brown eyes. She nervously licked her own lips. "Akane…I don't want to lose you either. But won't things just get awkward because of…you know…love, attraction and stuff?"

Akane had guessed as much. And she couldn't lie…it was going to be awkward. "We've come this far as awkward friends. I don't see any reason for us to not be friends just because the cat is out of the bag, and you're a lesbian now."

Ran-chan's nose wrinkled at the dropping of the l-word comment. Her mouth opened as though she were about to protest, but no words came out. Yeah, Akane could agree that the word didn't exactly fit. But it was the only word she knew for it. And regardless of the larger truth, it would be what the rest of the world would see.

"I guess…if I can be okay with being a woman, being okay with being called a lesbian should be a cinch." Ran-chan laughed a bit. "Damn, I've certainly been called worse things than that. And you say it so lovingly Akane-chan…I'll be your little hopeless lesbian friend. Maybe they'll write a sitcom about us."

They both laughed. Maybe this would work, there could be a light at the end of the tunnel. When the laughter subsided, there was a quiet moment of mirth before Akane pulled the redhead closer to herself. After what had happened before, there was really no sense in being physically awkward. Still, she was careful to not send mixed signals…they were, tragically, two friends in the bath together. "Okay, so we're a sitcom. What happens next, Ran-chan?"

"I think this is the part where we're supposed to compare breast sizes." Akane's stifled giggling only encouraged her to take this ball and run with it. "Yup, it's totally an important part of female skinship to grope and fondle each other's breasts, and then fawn over whoever has the largest ones. Though I think we already know who wins, so we could just skip straight to the fawning."

Akane's giggles were uncontrollable; "Oh stop it, Ran-chan!

"Huh…" she replied.

"Huh what?"

"You called me Ran-chan again….Well, it's just that 'Ran-chan' is usually what Ucchan calls me. Just feels kind of strange for someone else to call me that." Surely enough, she fidgeted a bit as she laid out her concerns.

"Well, if you don't want me to, I don't have to call you Ran-chan."

"Actually…I kinda like it. It's short and sweet. Besides, you're going to have to come up with some way to differentiate me from _him_, so if I had to choose, I'd guess I'd choose Ran-chan."

"Hmm," Akane said pensively. "I guess you're right. And I take it that calling you Ranko is out of the question?"

"Definitely! Being 'Ranko' always meant pretending to be someone else. I ain't giving up my name…it's just something I can't do. And if he wants to fight me for it, that's how it's gonna be."

"I guess you're right," Akane chuckled, "I'd rather forget that horrible web of lies we spun to your mom before you revealed the truth to her. That was not our finest moment, even if we didn't have much of a choice."

Ran-chan shuddered just thinking about it. Akane could have kicked herself for bringing it up. With the seppuku contract fiasco, it wasn't hard to guess that she was afraid of her mother. But not just because of that. Being Ranko, the tomboyish Tendo family cousin to fool his mother had quickly led to Ranko being a surrogate daughter for Nodoka. And this was always a curious mix of agony and ecstasy for Ranma.

One the one hand, Nodoka always insisted on trying to get Ranko to be something she wasn't. But Ranma loved his mother, and missed her dearly, and seemed to be capable of going great lengths to please her, and gain her affections.

"I dunno what I'm gonna do about mom, Akane," said Ran-chan. Her voice was somewhere between a whisper and a normal volume, low and flat almost like a groan. She sank deeper into the water, sliding down until her mouth was barely above the surface. "I mean, I'm not really worried about having to commit hara-kiri…okay, maybe the thought has crossed my mind. It's just that mom's always wanted a daughter. And I guess now she's got one, and I'm afraid it'll be Ranko all over again. I can handle her trying to make me a proper lady…it's just that I'm afraid that after a while, I might start _wanting_ to be a proper lady."

It was slightly thrilling to be able to guess as much, but Akane figured it was more important for Ran-chan to say it out loud on her own.

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Ran-chan."

Akane smiled down at the red-head. Ran-chan must have caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, because she quickly turned towards Akane. Noticing the sweet smile, she smiled as well, albeit a bit reluctantly. Sometimes it's nice to have a vote of confidence.

"Come on, you uncute tomboy! let's get out of the bath before we turn into prunes," said the dark haired girl. In a flash, she was out of the tub, with Ran-chan hot on her tail. It was nice to throw that one back in her face just once.

"I admit, I deserved that one," Ran-chan laughed, "Doesn't mean I'm gonna let you get away with it!"


End file.
